She called my name over and over again and, if I left her, even for a
moment, she grew so much worse that the doctor forbade my going back to
the city. I obtained a leave of absence from the bank for three months.
By that time she was herself, so far as her reason was concerned, but
very weak and unable to bear the least hint of disturbance or worry. She
must not be moved, so Doctor Quimby said, and he held out no immediate
hope of her recovering the use of her limbs. "She will be confined to
her bed for a long time," said the doctor, "and she is easy only when
you are here. If you should go away I am afraid she might die." I did
not go away. I gave up my position in the bank and remained in Denboro.

At the end of the year I bought the Rogers house and land, moved a
portion of our furniture down there, sold the rest, and resigned myself
to a period of idleness in the country. Dorinda I hired as housekeeper,
and when Dorinda accepted the engagement she threw in Lute, so to speak,
for good measure.

And here I have been ever since. At first I looked upon my stay in
Denboro as a sort of enforced vacation, which was to be, of course, only
temporary. But time went on and Mother's condition continued unchanged.
She needed me and I could not leave her. I fished and, shot and sailed
and loafed, losing ambition and self-respect, aware that the majority of
the village people considered me too lazy to earn a living, and
caring little for their opinion. At first I had kept up a hit or miss
correspondence with one or two of my associates in the bank, but after
a while I dropped even this connection with the world. I was ashamed
to have my former acquaintances know what I had become, and they,
apparently, were quite willing to forget me. I expected to live and die
in Denboro, and I faced the prospect with indifference.